Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Home - Collection of Stories - Famous Stories - Short Stories - Wales Poetry - Yiddish Tales

Wales Poetry

The Poor Man's Grave
'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ...

That Had Been Converted Into A May-pole In The Town Of Llanidloes, In Montgomeryshire
Ah! birch tree, with the verdant locks, And reckless min...

By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma

Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...

The Immovable Covenant
the Welsh of Mr. H. Hughes, was a Minister in the Baptist ...

The Banks Of The Dee
One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er...

An Ode To The Thunder
his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1...

The Withered Leaf
Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ...

Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns
Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa...

The Grove Of Broom
The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go...

Walter Sele
O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo...

Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g...

The Deluge
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...

To The Spring
Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte...

The Mountain Galloway
My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy...

Twenty Third Psalm
My shepherd is the Lord above, Who ne'er will suffer me to...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull
Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods a...

Sad Died The Maiden
Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s...

The Death Of Owain
Lo! the youth, in mind a man, Daring in the battle's v...

Old Morgan And His Wife
Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ...

Taliesin's Prophecy

Category: The Patriotic.

A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,
O Cambria! thus thy prophet bard, thy Taliesin sung,
The path of unborn ages is trac'd upon my soul,
The clouds, which mantle things unseen, away before me roll.

A light, the depths revealing, hath o'er my spirit passed;
A rushing sound from days to be swells fitful on the blast,
And tells me that for ever shall live the lofty tongue,
To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung.

Green island of the mighty! {87a} I see thine ancient race
Driv'n from their fathers' realm, to make the rocks their dwelling place!
I see from Uthyr's {87b} kingdom the sceptre pass away,
And many a line of bards and chiefs, and princely men decay.

But long as Arvon's mountains shall lift their sovereign forms,
And wear the crown to which is giv'n dominion o'er the storms,
So long, their empire sharing, shall live the lofty tongue,
To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung.

Next: The Monarchy Of Britain

Previous: The Battle Of Gwenystrad

Add to Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network

Viewed 1951

Untitled Document